Chapter 1(full)

Five years later

The capital was... overwhelming.

Stone roads stretched farther than the eye could follow. Towers of marble and slate loomed on the horizon, reaching toward the skies like fingers of ambition. Banners in deep royal blues fluttered atop silver spires, catching the sunlight just right to give the illusion that the entire city glowed. Even the air smelled richer — bread, spices, perfume, horse dung… and something distinctly metallic beneath it all.

This was Luceris, the beating heart of the kingdom.

I adjusted the strap of my satchel as I approached the outer gates. My coin pouch jingled faintly — and my stomach tightened.

Two gold coins... just to enter.

I’d triple-checked the rate. That was ten silver coins. And ten silvers were twenty bronze. The cost of entry alone could feed a village for a week. I had saved every scrap from odd jobs, commissions, and the occasional bounty posted in smaller towns.

All for this moment.

Because this year, I’d been accepted into Lucras Academy — the most prestigious school in the entire kingdom, and arguably the continent. It wasn’t just a place to learn magic or swordplay — it was where the heirs of noble houses and the prodigies of the common folk collided. Where the future of the world was shaped.

Founded by one of the legendary Seven Greats, the Great Mage himself — Solen Varith, the man hailed as “The Mind That Never Dims.” The guy who literally altered the structure of magic theory. Even five decades later, his legacy cast a long, intimidating shadow.

And this year was special.

Lucras Academy was celebrating its 40th anniversary, and to commemorate it, they were holding a First-Year Tournament. A full-blown combat festival between the new recruits — set to begin one week after the entrance ceremony, which happened tomorrow.

But today?

Today I needed food. And a place to sleep. In that order.

grrrrRRRRRL

My stomach roared in agreement.

I wandered deeper into the lower districts — the “Outer Rings,” as they were called. It was less pristine than the royal quarter, but still far more polished than the muddy villages I’d passed through over the years. Stone streets, wooden carts full of strange fruits, and an overwhelming sea of voices — merchants yelling, children laughing, someone playing a lute nearby.

Then I heard him.

“Come, come! Last one for sale — a beautiful half-elf girl! Discounted price — one gold coin! One gold!”

I froze.

My eyes narrowed toward the commotion. A makeshift wooden platform stood on a street corner, just off the main road. A man in tattered merchant’s robes stood above a battered carriage, waving his arms like he was hawking apples, not people.

Slave trader.

In the capital.

He shouted again, louder this time.

“One gold! That’s a steal! She’s still fresh — dark hair, exotic features, the pointed ears everyone likes. Sure, she’s a half-breed, not the real deal, but she’s mint condition! Suitable for housework, combat training, or—” he smirked, lowering his voice— “even more personal services. Untouched. A real virgin.”

A nervous chuckle rippled through the crowd. Some looked disgusted. Others intrigued.

I stared at the girl chained beside the cart.

She sat slumped forward, wrists and ankles bound with iron cuffs. Her dark hair hung like a curtain, covering her face, but I could still see the dirt smudging her pale cheeks. Pointed ears. Small frame. Bare feet. A torn linen dress. She didn’t flinch at the man’s words, didn’t even raise her head.

But her hands trembled.

I swallowed.

This world… had always been cruel. I’d seen slavers before — out in the villages, skirting the law. But here, in the capital, right out in the open? That… didn’t sit right.

Maybe this was just how things worked here.

But that didn’t mean I had to like it.

I stepped forward.

"One gold, huh?" I said, voice steady.

The slaver’s head whipped toward me. “Ah! A buyer! Yes, young sir, you heard right! Just one gold! A half-elf like this would usually go for two, but you see, she’s our last stock from a recent... unfortunate raid. No time to wait for auction.”

He motioned to her like she was a sack of flour.

“She can cook, clean, serve. Or more, if you know what I mean. And the best part — she’s untouched. That makes her a rare find.”

I clenched my jaw.

“I’ll take her,” I said.

Those words tasted like ash in my mouth.

But her hands had stopped trembling. She was listening.

“Wonderful!” the slaver grinned. “Just place your hand here, and we’ll form a basic slave pact. No nasty rebellion or disobedience spells — clean and simple.”

“No pact,” I said quickly. “I don’t want any of that.”

He blinked. “Ah… suit yourself, young master. Your gold?”

I handed over the coin. He bit it, nodded, and jumped off the cart. Within seconds, he unlocked the chains and shoved her toward me.

“Yours now! No refunds!”

The cart rolled away. Dust and silence followed it.

I stood awkwardly, the half-elf girl now standing in front of me. She rubbed her wrists, avoiding eye contact.

“Thank you for purchasing me… Master,” she said softly, bowing low.

“Uhh… no problem,” I muttered. “You can stop bowing. People are staring.”

She straightened slowly, eyes still fixed to the ground.

I shifted on my feet. “I’m Cael Ardan. And you are…?”

“…Seren,” she said. “I’m… a half-elf.”

“Right. Half-human, half-elf, yeah?”

She nodded faintly.

Growl

Her stomach spoke again. Loudly. She winced.

“…Wanna get something to eat?” I asked.

“N-No, Master, I’m fine—”

“I insist,” I said with a half-smile. “I was about to grab something anyway. Join me?”

She hesitated. Her shoulders were tense. But after a long pause… she nodded.

We sat beneath a tree in one of the quieter corners of the city — a small clearing with a fountain nearby. Birds chirped overhead, and the rustle of leaves made it feel almost peaceful.

Seren devoured her food — something like a meat-wrapped flatbread — like it was the first thing she’d eaten in days.

“Oh—!” She suddenly froze. “I-I’m sorry for eating before you gave permission, Master—”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “You don’t need permission to eat. And... could you maybe not call me ‘Master’? It just sounds weird. Cringe, honestly.”

She blinked. “M-Master Cael?”

“Nope.”

“Mr. Cael?”

“Closer.”

“Cael-sama?”

“You lost it.”

“…Cael?”

“There we go.”

She gave the smallest smile — just a flicker, but it was there.

“Saying ‘master’ when we’re the same age feels wrong,” I added.

“Same age?” she echoed. “How do you know?”

I leaned in and lowered my voice. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have a special power. I can tell someone’s age… just by looking into their eyes.”

Her expression turned suspicious. “…That’s not some kind of pervert ability, is it?”

“What? No! It works on guys too!”

“…So you like guys?”

“What? No!”

She giggled. Just once. Barely. But it felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

I leaned back against the tree, exhaling. “Anyway… do you have somewhere to go? A home or something?”

Seren’s smile vanished.

Her gaze dropped to the grass.

“…No,” she whispered. “I... I ran away from home.”

“You… ran away from home?”

Seren hesitated, then gave the faintest nod. “Y-Yes.”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to.

Something about the way her shoulders tensed, how her eyes lowered to the ground again—it told me more than words could.

I wanted to ask why. I really did.

But I didn’t want to push her. Not now.

Still, it complicated things.

I’d been planning to give her some money, wish her luck, and let her go her own way. Not because I was cold, but because I didn’t want to act like I owned anyone.

But now?

No family. No home. No place to return to.

She had no one.

This was turning into a headache.

I sighed and stood up.

“Huh?” She looked up, confused.

“Let’s go shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“Yeah. You don’t want to walk around in rags, do you?”

She looked down at her torn, soot-stained dress. “…Well… no.”

“Then come on.”

“…O-Okay.”

We started walking, side by side through the capital’s stone-paved streets.

As we passed stalls and shops, I caught our reflections in a storefront mirror — me, a tired teen in travel-worn clothes… and her, barefoot, ragged, eyes filled with cautious uncertainty.

I did this to myself, I thought.
But even so… I couldn’t just leave her.
Not anymore.

I guess this is what it means… to take responsibility.

Meanwhile — deep within the inner halls of Lucras Academy…

The scent of parchment and incense filled the air as golden light streamed through stained-glass windows. High above the city, in a tower laced with arcane sigils, a figure stood by an enormous crystal-glass window, holding a scroll.

His long gray robe shimmered slightly under the sun, and his beard — tied with gold rings — reached his chest.

Archmage Solen Varith narrowed his eyes at the document in hand.

“Ardan…?” he murmured.

Behind him, a girl with silver hair leaned lazily against a bookshelf, levitating an apple above her head.

“Old man,” she said, expressionless. “What are you grinning at?”

Solen didn’t look back. “The first-year registry. I believe I’ve found someone… unusual.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “Has someone caught your interest? That’s rare.”

“Tell me,” Solen said, turning slightly. “Have you ever heard of the Blade That Sleeps?”

Lyra’s face remained expression. She tossed the apple up and caught it. “You mean… Galdren. The Great Swordmaster?”

“Yes.”

“He vanished after the war,” she said. “Didn’t he retire and go into hiding somewhere in the mountains? Is he even still alive?”

“Oh, he’s alive,” Solen replied, gaze drifting to the horizon. “Very much so. The world may forget him, but I wont. You forget, we once stood side by side.”

Lyra crossed her arms. “So? What about him?”

“The boy’s name,” Solen said, tapping the parchment. “Is Cael Ardan.”

Silence fell for a moment.

“…Ardan?” Lyra blinked. “You think he’s related to him?”

“I don’t know,” Solen admitted. “But Galdren’s full name was Galdren Ardan. Most people only knew him by his title. The last I heard, he lived alone. Refused even the company of students. But that name… it’s no coincidence.”

“You think he had a kid?”

Solen frowned. “He loved only one woman. And she—” he stopped, eyes shadowing. “She died during the Great War. I can’t imagine he ever moved on. But it has been decades.”

Lyra sighed. “So what, you want me to keep an eye on him?”

“Correct,” Solen said. “If Cael Ardan really is of Galdren’s bloodline… it changes things. That boy could aid us.”

“Fine.” She stretched. “But if he turns out to be just another noble brat with daddy issues.”

“I trust your judgment,” Solen said, walking toward the door. “Just don’t scare him off.”

“Hey—don’t slam the—!”

SLAM.

Lyra sighed, rubbing her temple.

She glanced back at the scroll, then at the open window.

“Cael Ardan, huh?” she said to herself. “If Solen’s interested in you, then maybe you are the Swordmaster’s kid…”

She smiled.

“Well then… this year’s going to be fun.”

Back in the city…

Achoo!

I wiped my nose. “Ugh. Someone talking about me?”

Seren looked at me, confused. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Just… got a weird chill.”

She blinked. “…Maybe someone’s talking behind your back.”

I laughed. “If they are, I hope they’re saying nice things.”

She giggled.

The sun dipped low, casting a warm orange over the copper-tiled rooftops as Seren and I made our way through the upper market. The day was ending, but the city was still very much alive — a low hum of voices, clattering hooves, merchant chants, and the distant ringing of bell towers.

Seren walked half a step behind me, her fingers laced tightly in front of her, her stride small and careful — like every stone beneath her feet might crack if she wasn’t gentle enough.

She flinched at every raised voice, every sudden movement. Her ears twitched at dogs barking, carts screeching, and the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby tavern. I noticed her eyes lingered on people’s hands — especially those holding chains or coins.

I slowed down slightly, letting her naturally fall into step beside me.

“You don’t need to walk behind me, y’know,” I said without looking at her.

She blinked, then caught up. “S-Sorry… force of habit.”

I didn’t press further. I had a feeling there were a lot of habits like that — habits beaten into her by people who didn’t know what kindness looked like.

The marketplace curved ahead, lit now by tall iron lanterns that flickered with soft amber magic. This part of the capital was more polished than the outskirts — wooden storefronts with painted signs, colored cloth banners swaying above the cobbled paths.

We passed clothiers, potion stalls, armor shops. At one point, her eyes lingered on a pastry stand. She didn’t say anything, but the way her gaze followed the scent told me enough.

Maybe after the ceremony tomorrow…

Eventually, we reached a humble tailor's shop with a painted sign swinging gently in the breeze:

THREAD & LEAF – Women’s Wear

Ironically, a “Men’s Wear” shop stood right next door with the same design. Maybe they were owned by siblings.

We stepped inside. The shop was quiet, warm, and smelled faintly of cotton and dried lavender. Wooden racks lined the walls, and soft mage-light glowed from lantern bulbs strung across the ceiling. A mannequin in the corner wore a deep-green school uniform — sleek, formal, clearly Lucras Academy issue.

“Lucras Academy…” I murmured, recognizing it. “Looks fancier than I imagined… though it’s the girls’ version.”

Behind the counter, an older shopkeeper raised her brow slightly as she glanced at Seren’s rags, then at me. “What can I help the young couple with?”

“We’re looking for clothes for my friend here,” I said.

“Certainly. Tunics, dresses… undergarments? We have a lovely range of—”

“Undergarments? got it! I’ll wait outside. Seren, call me when you’re ready to pay.”

And with that, I escaped with the speed of a man dodging death.

Minutes later, the bell above the door jingled.

I turned — and there she stood, hesitantly stepping outside.

“...Do I look alright?” she asked, voice light, almost shy.

She wore a soft grey blouse tucked into a navy-blue skirt that reached just past her knees. Her dark hair was still slightly messy, but clean, falling around her face like shadowed silk. She clutched the hem of her shirt nervously.

“You look better,” I said, keeping it short — even though in my head, I wanted to say beautiful. But that felt… inappropriate. We barely knew each other. And besides, I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

She smiled faintly, but her eyes stayed lowered. “It feels… strange. It’s been so long since I’ve worn clothes without holes.”

I caught her eyes drifting downward. Her feet were still bare.

“Right. Shoes.”

She blinked, hesitating. “Actually… I don’t want any.”

“Huh? Why? Don’t worry about the price—”

“No, no!” she said quickly, louder than before. “It’s not that.”

She held her hands against her chest, breathing once.

“Being barefoot… makes me feel more at home. Even before I ran away… I always preferred it that way. It’s… comforting, somehow.”

I blinked, then nodded slowly.

More at home, huh?

I didn’t know why that resonated so deeply. But it did.

“Alright,” I said. “Barefoot it is.”

I returned to the counter and paid for everything without flinching — even though it nearly cut my savings in half.

By the time we stepped out, the sky had deepened into violet. Lanterns now lit every path, warm and steady. The market had begun to quiet, its hustle winding down. Taverns were filling. Families returned to their homes. And the capital, while never asleep, had begun to breathe softer.

We found a bench near the city’s main road and sat down. The bags rested at our feet.

Seren curled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. She watched the people passing — mages, scholars, soldiers, students in Academy robes, all chatting and laughing like tomorrow was guaranteed.

After a while, she asked, “Are you sure it’s okay? Spending all that… on me?”

I shrugged. “I’ve wasted money on worse.”

“Like?”

“Burnt pork skewers from a back alley vendor. Pretty sure they gave me food poisoning.”

She looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “…Is that a joke?”

“…Mostly.”

That earned a quiet laugh. Small, but real.

“…Thank you,” she said softly.

“For what?”

“For… treating me like I matter.”

The words struck harder than I expected.

I looked away.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” I muttered.

She didn’t respond. But out of the corner of my eye…
I saw her smile.

Just a little.

Later that night, we found a quiet inn tucked between an herbal shop and a library. The sign read:

The Sleeping Lantern.

The innkeeper — an older woman with sharp eyes and a gentler voice — didn’t question anything. Just handed us a key when I paid.

Room 4. Second floor. Last door on the right.

It was small: one bed, a window, a wooden dresser, and a wash basin.

Seren froze the moment we stepped in.

“I can sleep on the floor,” I said quickly. “You take the bed.”

She looked like she was about to protest, but I cut her off with a raised hand.

“Blankets are enough for me. Seriously.”

“…Okay,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

I rolled out one of the extra quilts in the corner and laid down. The floor creaked slightly under me, but it was warm and quiet.

As I stared at the ceiling beams above, I let my thoughts wander.

First day in the capital… and I’ve already bought a slave (still feels weird saying that), adopted a roommate, burned through half my savings, and somehow ended up not preparing for a school ceremony like this is normal.

I sighed.

Gramps’s voice echoed in my head.

“You’re only as strong as your heart, boy.”

He always said stuff like that. Vague. Frustrating. And yet… I think I understood a little now.

Kindness is a choice. And every choice weighs something.

Yawn*

Tomorrow, the entrance ceremony.

Hopefully no one notices how out of place I am.

Hopefully I don’t mess this up.